For What It's Worth
by beautiful.mind-broken.body
Summary: Just when things seemed to be getting back to normal, the unthinkable happens. Can the boys cope with losing someone again?
1. Chapter 1

It had been one of those endless Fridays at the DX that Soda and Steve had grown to hate. The first customer had pulled up to the pump before Steve even had his keys in the door or Soda had his shirt buttoned up. Chryslers, Dodges, Chevys and Fords had been arriving in waves, as everyone wanted to fill up before heading out of town for the holiday weekend.

On top of being hot and exhausted, Soda was bent out of shape about having to work through another weekend instead of taking off for a holiday of his own. He'd sulked around the garage all day long, spouting off occasionally to Steve, who would listen as patiently as he could manage from under the vehicle he was working on.

"Look at 'em all Stevie," he'd sighed miserably, as his last customer drove off and there was finally quiet around the station. "Heading somewhere nice and cool, I bet."

Steve grunted as he slid out from under a Plymouth. "I don't think there's anywhere cool south of Alaska."

"You boys would get a lot more work done if you'd quit your goddamn yammering," Wes, the manager, snapped coming out from the office. It seemed that the hotter it got, the more short-tempered Wes got. "You two were slower than molasses today."

"It's hot," Steve growled, "and we've been busting our balls all day long."

"Busting your balls?" Wes snorted. "You haven't even started working on the Dodge."

The Dodge that was sitting out in the lot had been a bone of contention between Wes and Steve all day long. Since the car belonged to his brother-in-law, Wes had ordered Steve to make its repair a priority. Steve, never in a hurry to please Wes, hadn't so much as looked at the car all day. Every time Wes bustled in or out of the office he'd mention the car to Steve, who blatantly ignored him.

"I must've forgot," Steve smirked.

Wes narrowed his eyes at Steve, spitting at his feet. "Just for that, you two can stay late tonight to finish the cars left in the lot."

"There's four more cars out there," Steve cried, jumping to his feet. "We won't finish before midnight!"

"I don't care what time they get done," Wes smiled grimly. "Just as long as they're finished before I get back here at nine tomorrow."

"Nine?" Soda repeated. "I thought you were coming in at seven--to cover for me until noon."

Determined to have at least some fun with his weekend, Soda had requested Saturday morning off. He'd been figuring on going out after work with his new girlfriend of two months, June, and sleeping in the next morning.

"_I must've forgot_," Wes mimicked Steve with a similar smirk and stalked off to his car. "Have a good night boys," he chuckled, slamming his door.

Steve lobbed his wrench at a pile of empty gas cans as Wes rolled out of the driveway.

"Can you believe that guy?" he sighed. Glancing at his watch, he pulled the keys to the Dodge out of his pocket and tossed them to Soda. "Go pull that bucket of rust around front for me, would you?"

Soda, missing the keys, stared at his friend as his dreams of Friday night freedom slipped away from him. "But--" he started to say, but Steve cut him off.

"Listen, if I'm gonna finish all these cars by my lonesome so you can keep your lame date with June, the least you can do is pull the goddamn Dodge around for me," Steve smirked as his buddy grinned widely.

"You mean it, Steve?" Soda asked, practically giddy that prospects were looking up for his evening. "I thought you told Wes that you'd be here till midnight."

Steve shrugged and stooped to fish his wrench out from the pile of gas cans. "So I exaggerated a bit," he admitted. "With any luck, I'll be out of here by nine. Besides, we both know you wouldn't be much help."

"Hey!" Soda cried, good-naturedly punching Steve in the shoulder.

"And if I have to be here anyways, I'd rather not be listening to you piss and moan all night," Steve added, for good measure, and darted off before Soda could slug him again.

Glancing at his own watch, Soda's eyes widened. "I gotta get home before Darry if I want a chance at a shower before I pick up June," he laughed, unbuttoning his work shirt. "He spends at least an hour in there trying to get the hot water to loosen up his muscles."

"Get on out of here, then," Steve said, nodding towards the drive, where Two-Bit had just pulled in. "You can catch a ride with Two-Bit, if you think that hunk of junk he's driving will get you home in one piece."

"At least I have a car, Steve," Two-Bit hollered through his window, "even if she is a little rough around the edges."

Steve fought back the urge to stroll right up to Two-Bit's beater and give it a good kick, certain that it would fall to pieces.

"Thanks a lot, man," Soda grinned, clapping his buddy on the back. "June has to be home by nine, you know? So, I'll be home early. You ought to come by the house once you get done here. Maybe Darry and Pony'll want to get a game of poker going."

Steve knew that June didn't have to be home until eleven. He also knew Soda had seen his freshly bruised cheek, though he hadn't said anything about it. He half-smiled at his friend, grateful that he had somewhere to go other than his own house, even if it was to play cards with Superman and the kid.

Soda grinned back, running for the passenger's side of Two-Bit's car. He hesitated, looking in at Two-Bit through the window. "How're your breaks?"

"Good enough," Two-Bit shrugged, lighting a cigarette.

Soda grinned and shrugged. "Good enough," he echoed and climbed in beside his friend.

"Ain't Steve comin'?" Two-Bit asked as Steve headed back into the garage.

"Nah, he's got a couple cars to finish up," Soda explained. "Wes got all bent out of shape today and said we had to stay until all the cars in the lot were done. Stevie said he'd do 'em though."

"Sounds like a hell of a night for old Steve," Two-Bit shook his head.

"Better than him going home, though," Soda muttered. He'd watched Steve take on a handful of Socs and whip them all, but for some reason Steve never fought back when his old man was wailing on him.

Two-Bit shot a glace at Soda. He always got the same look on his face when he thought about the way things were at Steve's house.

"We'll show him a good time tonight," Two-Bit said, decidedly. "When he shows up at your place tonight, let's take him out to Buck's or something."

Soda's eyes lit up. "I think he'd like that."


	2. Chapter 2

With Two-Bit driving, beating Darry home wasn't much of a problem for Soda. When the bucket of rust came to a grating halt in front of the Curtis house, Soda began to work on getting the trick door unstuck.

"So, you're taking June out again tonight?" Two-Bit asked as his friend slammed his shoulder into the door. "Third time this week, huh?"

"Yep." Soda grunted, throwing his body into the door again. "Dammit, Two-Bit! Is there any part of this car that _does_ work?"

Two-Bit laughed good-naturedly as Soda finally surrendered to the immovable door and climbed out through the window.

"What do you say?" Soda squinted in the setting sunlight, calling to Two-Bit as he walked backwards towards the front gate. "Meet me back here around nine and we'll go pick up Steve?"

Two-Bit nodded and revved his engine. "Tonight's gonna be unreal," he whooped, then shot Soda a roguish smirk. "We'll make Stevie forget that he got the royal shaft tonight."

"He offered to stay!" Soda cried over the menacing growl of Two-Bit's failing motor as he zipped off down the street.

A small spasm of guilt landed in the pit of Soda's stomach. He hastily dismissed it, though, reminding himself that he was going to make things right with his best friend soon enough. Besides, he couldn't disappoint June.

Remembering June and the date, he scampered up the walkway, took the porch steps two at a time and burst through the door.

"For crying out loud, Soda!" he heard Pony gripe as he dashed through the living room. "What's the big idea--coming in here like the devil was after you?"

Soda ignored him, searching for a clean towel. Lately Pony had been getting mighty irritated by things that he'd once loved about Soda.

"I gotta get in the shower," Soda called back as he rummaged through a basket of unfolded laundry. "I'm in a real hurry, too."

He suspended the search for the towel, returning to the living room so quickly that his feet got tangled with themselves, and wound up sprawled out on his stomach on the floor.

"Are you alright?" Pony was by his side in an instant to help him up.

Soda nodded slowly, surprised to find that he really wasn't hurt, and still confused as to what he'd tripped over.

"Now will you slow down?" Pony grumbled, and Soda flashed him a sheepish grin before tugging his shirt off over his head.

"Be a pal and find me a towel?" he asked, and Pony begrudgingly agreed.

As Soda got himself into the shower and set to the task of scrubbing all the grease out of his hair, Pony returned with the towel.

"What's the big rush anyways?" He leaned up against the sink. "You and Steve going out, or something?"

"Well, we are later tonight," Soda replied from the shower. "First, though, I got a date with June."

Pony rolled his eyes at this. He thought Soda would've learned his lesson the last time and not jump whole-heartedly into another relationship, but Soda just wasn't like other people. He experienced things on a different level than most and took them more to heart. He needed a girl who understood that, and Ponyboy did not think June was that girl.

"You've been spending a lot of time with her." Pony sounded slightly injured, and Soda laughed obliviously.

"Everyone's been saying that today."

"Maybe cause no one expected to see you get back on the horse so quick," Pony said. "I mean, after what happened-"

Soda abruptly stuck his head out of the curtain. "She's not like that, Pone. She's different."

Pony almost scoffed at his brother's blatant ignorance. He'd never really figured Soda for a hopeless romantic, but this peculiarity was becoming increasingly conspicuous.

Soda, who had paused to reflect on his starry-eyed romance, remembered the time and returned to his shower.

"Get out of here, would you?" he asked. "I gotta finish up and get dressed."

Pony didn't move for a moment. "Soda?"

"What?"

"Just be careful, ok?" Pony asked, and Soda chuckled again, as if Pony had no good reason to be worried.

Pony stalked out of the bathroom with a quick flame of rage, slamming the door. Soda would never understand why Pony was concerned. When he fell in love, he fell hard and that was precisely what was bothering Pony. After Sandy left, Soda had been a real mess. There were even a few times when Pony wasn't sure he'd ever get over losing Sandy.

Then, one afternoon, he came home from work whistling like he used to. Pony was only thrilled about this turnaround until he found out the source of Soda's sudden elation. He wondered how stupid someone had to be to rush back into the very thing that brought them so much misery in the first place.

People were always doing things that didn't make sense, though. They became dependent on having someone to love and someone to love him back--addicted to it, even. God help them if they tried to live without it. They'd have better luck trying to teach themselves Quantum Physics.

Pony guessed that made Soda even worse off because he'd dropped out of school. He probably didn't even know what physics were. Another spark of anger made Pony's face burn.

Flopping down in front of the television, Ponyboy hoped cynically this June girl taught Soda the lesson he never learned from Sandy. There were a lot of things Soda needed to figure out, and Ponyboy knew that sooner he did, the better everyone else would be for it.

It was a little something called tough love.


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't want you driving her all over town," Darry was lecturing as he dangled the keys to his beloved and indispensable pickup in front of Soda's face. "That timing belt is on its last leg. And I hope you've got enough sense in that head to steer clear of any sort of race."

"I know, Dar," Soda said to pacify him. "We won't go far, and no racing."

"And I want you home by midnight," he demanded, because sometimes he just liked to prove that he could still tell Soda what to do.

Soda didn't mind most of the time, because it wasn't often that Darry was too unreasonable with these orders. It used to be that Darry spent most of his time worrying about Pony getting himself into some sort of trouble. After losing Dallas and Johnny, though, Pony'd gotten into the habit of staying home a lot.

Without Pony to agonize over, it seemed to Soda that he'd noticed a sudden influx in the amount of attention Darry paid to where he was and what he was doing. He knew Darry meant well, but Soda had recently begun to develop sympathies for all the times Pony had complained to him about Darry being on his case.

"I'll be home before then, even," Soda pledged snatching the keys from his brother's hand and making a mad dash for the front door.

It wasn't until he was behind the wheel of the pickup, swinging it out widely onto the street, that Soda realized his stomach felt like a bird was flapping around inside it. He'd taken June out enough times to know that next his palms would start to sweat and, once he saw her, all hell would break loose.

There was something about June that made Soda feel alive again. After Sandy had left, he'd been convinced that he'd never know an end to the heartache, and he knew he'd never feel the same way about another girl again. The second he'd laid eyes on June though, any thoughts of Sandy—or any other girl, for that matter—had slipped clean from his head. He was right, though; he didn't feel the same way about June as he did Sandy. What he felt when he was with June was at least a hundred times better--stronger.

Soda stopped the truck at the last house on Cedar Street and jumped out. June's mother didn't think it was proper for her daughter to meet a boy on the street and was adamant that Soda came to the front door. Soda didn't tell her mother that he'd happily go to China if it meant he could see June.

He took the front steps two at a time in his haste, pausing only to run his hands through his hair before ringing the doorbell. He squared his shoulders and attempted to smooth out his shirt, anticipating that June's father would answer. He heard some scuttling from behind the thick oak door, which promptly opened to reveal June's six-year-old sister.

"How's it going, Kit?" Soda grinned, stooping down to her level. He much preferred being greeted by her to either of her parents.

"I found a nickel and two pennies down the sofa," she announced proudly between licks of her red Popsicle.

"What are you gonna do with all that money?"

Kit stopped, mid-lick and looked at her frozen treat, then back at Soda and smiled widely. Soda laughed in understanding.

"Is you sister ready to go?" he asked.

A stout, grayed woman appeared in the door, her lips pursed. She tucked a loose strand of hair from her no-nonsense bun behind her ear and ushered her youngest daughter inside with orders to clean her stained face and hands.

"Good evening Mrs. Lewis," Soda always tried to mind his manners in front of June's parents, though it didn't do much to convince them of his good character.

Soda figured it was because the Lewis family might well have been considered a Socy family, if it weren't for the small matter of June's six brothers and sisters. Mr. Lewis was a banker, and busied himself with a position on the city council. He never said too much to Soda, but Soda went to great lengths to make sure to never give him a reason to have to speak to him at length.

Mrs. Lewis spent her time looking after her home and seven children. She valued morals and manners and entertained concrete ideas of how a young person should behave and present himself. Unfortunately, Soda didn't quite live up to her high expectations.

"June will be with you in just a moment." Mrs. Lewis usually reserved a polite, yet cool tone for addressing Sodapop. "I trust I don't have to remind you of her curfew, or the fact that her daddy happens to be close, personal friends with the chief of police?"

Soda shook his head and smiled winningly. "No ma'am."

At a creak in the stairs, Soda looked past the matronly woman to where June was flouncing down the last few steps. Her chestnut hair fell in loose waves at her shoulders and made Soda want to bury his face between it and her sweet, velvety neck.

"You look beautiful," Soda heard himself breathe, earning himself an audible grumble from Mrs. Lewis.

"You're looking mighty handsome yourself," June returned, not missing a beat, though she did flush a lovely shade of pink. Soda promptly matched her tinge as his eyes met hers and he was reminded of every wonderful thought he'd had of her since they'd last met.

Mrs. Lewis crossed her arms across her chest and looked over the rim of her glasses at Soda. Soda imagined she wasn't entertaining the same thoughts about him as her daughter was. He shifted, uncomfortable under her icy gaze.

"Be sure to keep this sweater on," Mrs. Lewis instructed, reaching out to fasten the button nearest her daughter's throat. "There's going to be a chill tonight."

June dutifully allowed her mother to conceal the only bit of bare skin left uncovered before planting a kiss on her deeply wrinkled cheek.

"I'll be back before curfew, Mama," June assured her mother, taking Soda's hand to lead him back down the walkway. The contact between them, though merely palms and fingertips, sent waves of tingling pleasure up Soda's arm.

He hated having to unlock his fingers from hers, even to open the door to the truck, but delighted in watching her climb into the front seat. He relished the way her shapely hips swung seductively as she did so, but made sure not to linger behind her for too long, as he was sure Mrs. Lewis was still watching vigilantly from the porch for any signs of impropriety.

Soda practically floated to the driver's side of the truck, pausing to wave merrily to the ever-observant Mrs. Lewis before pulling away from the curb. For some reason, he experienced a distinct feeling of both relief and pride every time he was allowed to leave the Lewis residence with June. Relief, because their departure meant he wouldn't have to worry about another confrontation with June's parents until their next date, and pride because he obviously hadn't loused things up too awfully yet, if she was still permitted to keep his company.

The couple had hardly rounded the corner of Cedar Street before June disregarded her mother's request and began peeling her sweater off, revealing the pair of arms Soda had dreamed of being swathed in. She shot him a playful smirk when she caught him paying more attention to her newly bared flesh than the road.

"Where are you taking me?"

She scooted closer to the middle of the bench seat (and, to his enjoyment, closer to Soda) adjusting the rear view mirror to aide in the application of her ruby lipstick.

"Your mother would loose it if she saw you with that stuff on your face," Soda reminded his pretty companion, then added gauchely, "'Sides, you don't need it."

The corners of June's cherry lips turned up, pleased by his ungainly compliment. Rummaging through her purse, she produced a handkerchief and scrubbed at her mouth with it for a moment.

"Better?" she asked, and Soda nodded with a genuine smile.

June laced her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and Soda practically took out a mailbox. Part of him hoped she'd keep her hands to herself until they were safely stopped. However, a greater, more overwhelming part of him longed to slam the truck into park right there in the middle of the street and allow his own fingers to caress her naked arms, tangle themselves in her silky mane and explore those parts of her flawless body yet unknown to him.

"Keep it up and we won't leave this truck in one piece," Soda warned, wishing for a Pepsi as his mouth had suddenly gone dry.

"You never told me where we were going," she reminded him. She'd stopped playing with his hair, but kept her place in the middle of the seat, closest to Soda. He could practically feel an electric charge between them—some mystic exchange of energy that made his head swim and his palms sweat so bad that he had trouble gripping the steering wheel. Every part of his body ached to be closer to her still. He was painfully aware of each millimeter of space between them and yearned to close it.

Soda stole a glance at her for the tenth time since they'd gotten in the truck and couldn't help but grin as he realized she was intently waiting for him to reveal their destination.

"You'll see once we get there," he teased. Usually, he wasn't any good at keeping secrets, but it was fun to watch June squirm with anticipation as she hated being kept in suspense. He loved how she first begged for him to tell her, then began shooting out guesses faster than he could refute them.

Soda happily settled back in his seat, content just to listen to her, elated to be in such close proximity to her. The pair cruised easily through town, the windows down and the warm, dry summer air stirring up June's hair and the gentle scent of rosewater with it.

Soda took a deep breath—the kind that completely fills you and makes you acutely aware of how alive you are. He wondered briefly how it was possible for one girl to cause him such grief and heartache that was only relieved by the affections of another. Another deep breath of the dusky Tulsa air, and the thrill of June's hair being blown gently across his arm only left Soda thinking,_ "Sandy who?"_


End file.
